


The (Institutional) Memory of Elephants

by knittycat99



Series: What Kind of Life it Has Been [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Elections, M/M, West-Wing inspired AU, gleeblast2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 2016 Presidential election is 18 months away, and Noah Puckerman and Kurt Hummel (White House Chief of Staff and head speechwriter, respectively) are ready to leave the grind of the political machine behind.  After five years of living their relationship under a very bright spotlight, they have plans both public and private for their post-White House futures.</p><p>When Democratic heir-presumptive Adelaide Sinclair decides not to seek the nomination, the party higher-ups turn to Kurt and Noah, who have hands on experience running a long-shot campaign, to recruit, groom, and elect an untried candidate.  The race becomes hotter than anyone could have imagined following the death of a Supreme Court justice and an attempt on the sitting president’s life.</p><p>Fighting every day at home and on the road, Kurt and Noah have no idea what's going to blow up first: their campaign or their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally started as a part of the 2015 Fuckurt Big Bang, but my writing was waylaid by a family emergency. I'm happy to (finally) be able to post this as part of International Fanworks Day. This will post twice a week on Mondays and Fridays.
> 
> ravingliberal made me an awesome fanmix, which can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6081987.

**Transcript of White House press conference, June 30 2013: Chief of Staff Noah Puckerman discussing staffing changes**

**Q: What** **’s next for you and Kurt now that the Windsor case has been decided?**

**A:** Come on, Jack.  You know we keep that stuff private.

**Q: It has to feel good, knowing that the government recognizes your relationship now.**

**A:** Our government, in so far as this building is concerned, has always recognized our relationship.  The finer details of insurance and pensions and all that, it definitely means something.  I'm so happy for the thousands of federal employees that can now carry their spouses on their insurance, or provide security for them as survivors on their federal pensions.  It's a lot better than just being beneficiary on a life insurance policy.

**Q: Will you and Kurt be getting married?**

**A:** We won't be making any plans of any kind until marriage is legal in our home state of Ohio.

**June/July, 2015**

_Could wedding bells be in the future for our favorite White House staffers?  Here at Rainbow Politico, we_ _’re on edge waiting for the Supreme Court to hand down what is expected to be another historical decision on gay rights.  If the court orders marriage to be legal throughout the country, we have to wonder: will there be a proposal, and perhaps a wedding in Ohio?  Watch these pages; you_ _’ll know when we know._

Noah steps into his shoes and flies through the motions of tying his tie.  MSNBC is on in the background, the talking heads debating which cases are going to come down in a matter of hours.

“Is it bad form to skip work and go hang out at the court?” he calls through the bathroom door.

Kurt mumbles something around his toothbrush, and Noah just waits until the water has turned off.  Kurt flings the door open and Noah has to resist every urge to grab Kurt and kiss him.  He’s wearing his black suit and a silver shirt with a purple tie still untied around his neck, and his reading glasses are hanging from the front of his shirt.  “It’s not going to come down today.  They’re going to hold it until Monday.  You _know_ they are.  Fucking Scalia.”

“If they do release it today, we’re going to hate ourselves for missing it.”

“You’re the boss, Noah.  You _can_ _’t_ play hooky.”

“Except I'm not the boss,” Noah argues.  “I think we should go.”

“You're Chief of Staff.  Of course you're the boss.”

Noah sighs and slings his messenger bag across his chest.  “I serve at the pleasure of the President, and I think the President’s pleasure is that we go down to the court this morning.”

“I can't believe you're Chief of Staff.  You're a bad influence.”

“Come _on!_ ” Noah tugs Kurt towards the door.  “I can pretty much guarantee you that every queer staffer in town is going to be there this morning.  They're not going to hold it until Monday, fucking Scalia or not.”

“I have work to do.  Statements and everything,” Kurt protests weakly.  He follows Noah into the hall, though.

“I know for a fact the statements have been done for weeks already.”  Noah’s jittery so he takes the stairs two at a time.  When he reaches the bottom he waits for Kurt.  “You know you love watching the media interns run.  It’s like the Hunger Games.  Come on.”

Kurt sighs, but he takes Noah’s hand and turns right out the door instead of left.  “I do love a good intern race.  Fine.  We’ll go to the court.”

**

The mood outside of the court is, Kurt thinks, what his father would call guarded optimism.  Noah is so nervous he’s practically vibrating, and Kurt just feels like he’s going to vomit.  He hasn’t been this nervous since election night in 2008.  He hangs back on the edges of the crowd, watching Noah move among staffers he knows from both the White House and various congressional offices; Noah never shies away from making the connections that make the President’s job easier.  It’s why he’s so great at his job, and why Kurt prefers his office and the steady click of his keyboard.  The closer it gets to 10 am, the more the crowd buzzes with anticipation, and Noah comes jogging over, hand held out to Kurt, at the same time he spies the first of the media interns, ID badge flying behind her as she runs in sneakers and a khaki skirt.  He watches the intern, takes what Noah offers him.  Cries because he doesn't know which thing to focus on first, that he _can_ get married, or that he _will_ get married.

The clinking in his hand is two brushed silver bands.  He doesn't remember sliding one onto Noah’s right hand, but he does remember what he whispers in response to Noah's quizzical look.  It doesn't matter that the D.C. Is their home now, they're still Midwest boys.  _We waited for Ohio_ , he says, trembling hands in trembling hands.  _We can wait a little longer to make it official_.

“We waited for Ohio,” Noah says.  “I don't want to wait anymore.”

“After we’re done.  We walk out of the White House on Inauguration Day and we go home and get married.  Our first act as civilians.”

“Whatever you want,” Noah acquiesces, his breath tiny puffs of heat against Kurt's neck.  “You said yes.  That's all that matters.”

The ring is heavy, its weight a private reminder to Kurt of all the twists and turns in his and Noah's relationship.  He knows that publicly the ring means entirely something else, so he pretends not to hear the whispers around them as they hug, or the faint clicks of a camera snapping picture after picture.

_Oh, happy day, Politicos.  There are rings, and a helpful Politico who was at the Court on Friday has pictures to prove it.  Congratulations to our two favorite White House staffers; do we get a wedding invite?_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**PART I:** **“I think the American people are _exactly_ that stupid.** **”  July-August, 2015**

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you _cannot_ be serious.”

Kurt didn't have to reach for the stretch of bed next to him to know that Noah was already up, but he did it anyway.  “It’s a holiday.  Why are you even awake yet, never mind out of bed.”

Noah shuffled in from the kitchen, sleep-rumpled and frowning at both his tablet and phone.  “There should be a law,” he said, tossing the offending electronics onto the bed and sitting by Kurt's hip.

“There are lots of laws. What are you going to ask for this time?”

“It's a holiday.  There shouldn't be Republicans before coffee.  I mean, that shouldn't happen on any day, but its Fourth of July.  We're supposed to have beer and a cookout and fireworks on the Mall with the crazy tourists.  Shouldn't I get a break from Republicans today?”

“Yes,” Kurt mumbled.  “Holiday.  Fireworks.”  His eyes drifted closed.  “No cookout till noon.  Too early.”

“Are you even listening?”

“Wha’?”  Kurt jumped awake.  “Huh?  Right.  I'm awake.  Evil Republicans.  What did they do this time?”

“Rand Paul.  That's what they did this time.”

“At least it's not Donald Trump.”

“Don't even think it.  There are rumors.”

“There are always rumors.  At least we don't have to worry.  The Vice President is hardly going to have to do anything.  The leadership is practically peeing the,selves, they're so excited to see her take down any of those clowns in a debate.”

“Clearly you haven't heard _those_ rumors.”

Kurt followed Noah's thought around down into the part of his brain that knew the President was at Camp David and the Vice President was on Block Island, into the part that was focused only on _holiday_ , _sleep_ , and _no work_.  “I have no idea what you're even talking about,” he said, sighing happily as he stretched.  “Come back to bed so we can nap before going to AJ’s.”

“I should make some calls.  If the rumors are true . . .” Noah trailed off.

“Donald Trump rumors or Vice President rumors?”

Noah shrugged, snagged his tablet, and headed back to the kitchen.  “Both. Either. I need coffee before I can figure it out.”

Kurt rolled over and stared out the window, watching the school-aged kids across the street doing tricks on their skateboards.  The rich scent of the dark roast coffee they saved for lazy days wafted in from the kitchen and engaged something in Kurt's consciousness that he'd missed in his sleepiness.  He sat up straight in bed, threw the covers aside, and yelled out to Noah.  “Wait.  What the hell are you talking about, rumors about the Vice President?”

**

Kurt pulled his reading glasses off and rubbed his eyes, stretched, sighed, and pushed himself out of his chair.  The junior staff cubicles were mostly empty, save for his two college interns who were neck-deep in research, and the lights were dim.  A vacuum cleaner hummed somewhere around the vicinity of the press bullpen; Kurt hoped that AJ was already on her way home to (wife) and the kids.  “How goes it?” he said, leaning against the intern’s cubicles.  Kent lifted one hand from his keyboard and gave Kurt a thumbs up. 

Penny smiled at him, eyes owlish behind her glasses. “It’s fine, Mr. Hummel.  I’ve got some good pull quotes for you.”

“Thanks, Penny.  Did everyone else go home?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I saw Mr. Puckerman come through about an hour ago, but he looked like he’d be back.  The press cleared out just after 5.”

“Okay.” 

“I made a fresh pot of coffee, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Kurt chuckled.  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for, I just realized that I’d been working for too long and I couldn’t see straight.  You two should take off.  If anything interesting were going to happen tonight, it would’ve already happened.  The summer’s almost over, go do whatever interns in this town do when they’re not working.”

Penny laughed.  “We sleep, Mr. Hummel.”

“Good to know the only difference between interns and senior staff are our ages, then.”

"Not the only differences, I hope," Noah said softly from behind him.  "We have the benefit of age and experience."

Kurt rolled his eyes and Penny snickered.  "Sure," he said.  "Age and experience is why someone's deputies think the staff entrance is a great place to ride scooters.”

Noah reached around and dangled a paper bag in front of Kurt.  “Maybe some dinner would get my deputies back in your good graces?”

“If that's falafel, you can negotiate for anything you want.”  Kurt was teasing, but something about the way Noah's face looked set and serious sobered him quickly.  “Here, let’s eat.  Penny, Kent, shut it down and go home.  See you in the morning.”

He strode back into his office and started clearing space on his desk, but Noah kicked his shoes off and settled on the floor, back against the wall and legs spread.  “C’mere.”  He patted the space between his thighs.

Kurt went, settling with his back against Noah's chest, Noah's arms firm around him.  He didn't ask, just waited.  There had been too many nights like this over the last 7 years, too many hard conversations that couldn't be had unless they weren't looking at each other.  Too many decisions made over take out dinners eaten on floors.  This wasn't new territory, but Kurt's stomach clenched like it was.

“I got called in to a meeting with the leadership.”

Kurt leaned his head back against Noah's shoulder.  “Of what?”

“ _Our_ leadership, Kurt.  The DNC.”

“What about?  Neither of us can run in the Maryland (congressional district) _or_ the Ohio 4th, and I thought we were both done with politics.”

Noah breathed in heavily and held the breath before letting it out slowly.

“What is it?  You're acting like the world is ending.”

“The rumors are true.”

“Donald Trump?”

“No.  Well, yes, actually, but the other ones.  Vice President Sinclair isn't going to run.”

“Oh.”  Kurt let the news settle over him slowly.  “Okay.  Why does this have you freaking out?  So she's not going to run.  Someone else will.  There's always someone else.”

“Dinner’s getting cold.  Let’s eat.  Everything else can hold for an hour.”

They made small talk over falafel and hummus and pita wedges, discussed tentative plans to go home to Ohio over the August recess, and whether Thanksgiving in Denver with Finn, Ashley, and the twins, was something they could commit to or not.

“Maybe my sister will drive up from Albuquerque.  Did I tell you, she's finally seeing someone again.”

“Some _one_ or more than one someone?”

Noah shrugged.  “She would have said, if it was more than one.  She only has to keep that from our Ma.  Ashley knows I won't judge her or her boyfriends and girlfriends.”

“As long as she's happy.  Invite her.  And her someone.”

When the wrappers and bags and containers were stuffed into the trash under kurt’s desk, Noah settled in on the broken-down couch just inside the door.  “The leadership wants us to run the campaign.”

Kurt sat, sofa springs protesting under him.  “Way to jump right in, babe.”

“I figured that would be better than beating around the bush.  They want us to pick a candidate, a _viable_ one, of course, and cultivate the candidate and run the campaign.  Apparently we’re the only ones around who have experience with a successful underdog.”

“Uh huh.  What did you tell them?”

“That It wasn't my decision to make, it was _ours_.  I mean, we have plans.” Noah ran his thumb over Kurt's ring.  “And we’re both tired.  Another campaign, another _slog_ , is it really worth it?”

“If we don't do it?”  Kurt leaned into Noah's body, twined their fingers together.

“Then it's a free for all.  Anyone who wants to can jump into the race.  If we agree, the party will throw full support behind our guy.”

“What's the catch?”

“No catch.”

Kurt sighed.  “This is politics.  There's always a catch.  No expectation that we stay on in a new administration, no dictates about who constitutes a viable candidate?”

“We have to give the new administration a year.”

“We've already given this one almost seven, not counting the 2008 campaign.  Another _year_ , Noah?  We were supposed to be done.  We were supposed to go home.  We’re supposed to get _married_.”

“So I'll tell them we won't do it.”  Noah shrugged his shoulders under Kurt.  “If I really wanted it, I would've said yes without asking you.”

“So you don't want it?”  Kurt felt like they were going around and around the periphery of the issue, and that only Noah could see the center of it.

“I didn't say that.  I'm not _opposed_ to it, but I'm not completely in love with it either.”

“Personally or professionally?”

“Personally.”

“Yeah.  Me, too.”  Because as much as Kurt didn't relish the strain he knew the campaign would have on them as people, as a couple, the professional implications were almost too good to ignore.  Run a _third_ successful Presidential campaign and they would be able to write their own tickets for post-White House careers.  “When do you have to give them an answer?”

“We have till the end of the week. If we agree, they want our candidate’s name then, too.  Apparently Trump is going to announce soon, and something from our side besides the Vice President walking away is going to take some of the wind out of his sails.”

Kurt snickered.  “If we pick the right person, maybe we could sink his entire boat.”

“I wish.  So you're in?”

Kurt felt the tension leave Noah's body at the idea of it.  “Tentatively,” Kurt said.  “We pick a candidate and get a commitment from them to see the race through to the end first.  If we can manage that in the next three days then yes.  If everyone thinks we're crazy and nobody wants in on the joyride, then we walk away.”

Noah nodded.  “You got it.”

Later, in bed in the dark, listening to Noah’s steady heartbeat and even, shallow breathing, Kurt can't stop thinking about the deal, about the pressure.  About the things he wants but didn't tell Noah.  _Couldn't_ tell Noah, because while they've talked marriage to death and back, the last time they talked about babies was mere weeks after graduating from college, in the middle of the fight that almost broke them for good.  But things had changed so much in fifteen years; Kurt almost couldn’t fathom it.  He wanted kids, a fact that was more and more evident every time they spent time with AJ’s family, or when they visited Finn’s family at the holidays.  But Noah's words from that long ago night plagued him: _I can't waste time longing for something they'll never let us have._

_But so much has changed_ , Kurt thought.  He could barely remember what it had felt like then, so full of idealism and big plans to conquer the political world.  _We could have it all, now, if we wanted._ If they wanted. 

 **

Noah tossed another bag of ice into the cooler, nestled the beer so and so had brought on top, and pushed the lid closed.  Everyone was milling around the apartment talking and laughing, and Kurt was passing hors d’ouvres like a pro.  He took a moment on his next swing through the kitchen to lean into Noah's side. 

“I love our friends,” he said, and Noah nodded.

The kids- AJ and Jenna’s two, and one of the communications deputies’ toddler- played cars on the hardwood in the hall, and Bill was rocking his and Jamie’s six week old daughter, Thea, in her car seat with his foot while he talked baseball with two of Noah’s problem child deputies; from what he could hear, the not-so-calm argument was over the state of pitching in the National League, and whether or not they should adopt the designated hitter.  At the fridge behind him, AJ hummed faintly as she poured juice into a plastic sippy cup. 

“So what’s the plan, Kurt?” she asked, handing the cup off to Jenna, who held it behind _her_ for Jonathan to take.  Noah watched him move carefully through the adults back to the hall, where he shoved it at his sister, Alice.

“Yeah,” Jenna said, “I’m curious.  Is there a standard way to pick a presidential candidate?”

“Whoever’s drunk enough to agree,” Kurt said, laughing.  “Or whoever draws the short straw.”

“We’ve got a game.”  Noah gestured to the covered cork board he’d borrowed from the office.  “Highly scientific.”

“What, candidate darts?”  AJ grinned wickedly.  “I’m a darts master.”

“More like Pin the Ballot on the Candidate.”  Kurt grinned back at her and held up a handful of fake paper ballots.  “By the end of the night, we’ll have someone to ask.”

“Sounds fun.  Also sounds like something that’ll be even more fun if we’re all drunk.  Come on, boys, let’s fix shots for everyone.”

**

By the time Kurt got around to unveiling the row of five pictures on the board, everyone was at least comfortably buzzed, if not tripping toward completely sloshed.  He could feel the warm flush of alcohol in his cheeks, but his mind was frighteningly clear.  He wanted this to work out for the party, but the idea of having to spend another year on the road campaigning left a boulder in his stomach.  Even so, he passed out the paper ballots and set a box of thumbtacks on the coffee table.  “Let’s do this thing.”  He nodded and Noah pulled the sheet off, revealing five pictures of high-ranking Democrats.  “The candidate with the most ballots gets asked to run.”

“Do you think this is how the Republicans decided who was going to be Speaker of the House?” Jamie murmured.  Bill snorted, and Kurt flashed them both a grin.

“Even if it was, our results are going to be infinitely better,” Noah reassured them.  “Who’s going to go first?”

 **

“So not scientific,” Bill said, downing the dregs of his coffee and flashing another glance at the cork board.  Most of the paper ballots were dangling at odd angles, clustered at the bottom and the right side.  Only three pictures had ballots stuck to them, and none of them were really viable.  “Who’s it going to be?”

Noah frowned at their choices.  “I guess Linda Dennis, but she’s only been in the senate for three years, and I don’t think that particular lightning is going to strike twice.”

“Not likely.  You don’t like Robb?”

“He’s good on foreign affairs; he’s been a great assistant secretary at State, but he’ll be killed on domestic policy.”

Bill nodded.  “And Lautner isn’t strong enough on the international side.”

“Nope.”

“So what’re you going to do?”

Noah stared into the bottom of his own empty coffee cup.  “I guess we tell them we have nobody.  It’s probably for the best.  I really don’t think Kurt’s got another election in him and if I’m being honest, I’ve given too much of my life to the party anyway.”  He glanced over to where Kurt was dozing on the couch, baby Thea sleeping on his chest.

“Have you thought about going rogue?”

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s going to volunteer,” Kurt muttered from the couch, shifting slightly to avoid waking the baby.  “Right?”

“I thought you were sleeping.”

“You know I never sleep,” Kurt shot at him, and then paused.  “No, really, I was just resting my eyes.  And thinking.  You’re going to run, Bill?”

“I don’t know.”  Bill twisted his wedding band around and around on his finger.  “We’ve talked about it; it’s a lot with the baby, but that’s not really the sticking point.”

“What is?”  Thea fussed a little, and Kurt patted her back.

Noah held up a hand to stop them.  “If we’re really going to have this conversation, I need more coffee.”

Jamie was up to his elbows in soapy water, clean dishes piled into the drying rack.  “Leave them,” Noah told him, squeezing into the small space to reach the coffee pot.  “We’ll finish them in the morning.  Besides, your husband is about to tell us why he wants to run for President.”

“Well, shit,” Jamie said with a low whistle.  “I thought maybe I’d talked him out of it.”

“I’m sorry.  This clearly didn’t help things.”  He waved a hand at the party trappings.  “If it’s any consolation, I really did think Kurt’s idea would work.”

“It was creative, I’ll give him that.”  Jamie reached around Noah to get a mug out of the cupboard.  “I think I’m going to need coffee too, if this is actually happening.”

“Do you want me to talk him out of it?”

Jamie shook his head.  “No.  You know Bill, once he gets an idea he's impossible.”

“Okay.  Let's go hash this out then.”

**

Settled side by side on the couch, Bill pressed his knee against Jamie’s.  “Do we tell them?”

Jamie nodded.  “We have to, if we're really going to do this.”

“Okay.”  Bill took a deep breath, and willed his hands to stop shaking.  “So.  Jamie and I started talking when the rumors about Trump started.  We know we can't be the only people dreading this election.  Neither party has anyone decent to run, and I'm tired of choosing between the lesser of who cares when I fill out my ballot.  So we talked and thought and talked some more, and we decided that if you didn't find anyone I'd offer.”

“Okay.  So,” Kurt paused and wrapped Thea's blanket a little tighter under her chin.  Bill wondered absently how long it would take he and Noah to have kids of their own.  “What's the sticking point?”

“We got a call last week,” Bill began, but the words got stuck around the lump in his throat.  He was still so angry at everyone involved that he saw red whenever he thought about it.

Jamie patted his leg and picked up the story.  “You know Thea was taken from her mother at birth.  She was born here in the District, and somehow social services here never knew.  There's another child, a little boy, not quite three.  Maryland Child Protective Services removed him from the home three weeks ago and took the mom to court to terminate her parental rights.  She told the judge that she wanted him to live with his sister, which finally got everyone on the same page, and so they called us.  He’s . . . troubled isn't quite the word I'd use, but he's been neglected and the foster mother he's been with said he's developmentally delayed because of it. Small for his age, scared.  I don't know how we’re going to handle him and a campaign.”

Thea’s sleepy squeaks and snores were the only sounds for what felt like an hour, but finally Noah nodded and spoke.  “If we can find qualified full time help for you and the kids, will you do it?”

“Yes,” Bill said without looking at Jamie.  “And I want children's welfare to be my major domestic issue.”

By the time Bill and Jamie headed home, past 2 am and only because they didn't have an extra bottle for Thea’s middle-of-the-night feeding, Noah's head was spinning and Kurt looked like he'd been steamrolled.  They got ready for bed in silence, and only after they settled under the covers, Kurt's head on Noah's chest, did either one of them speak.  Kurt broke the silence first.

“We’ll be crucified.  We're crazy.”

“Bill is crazy.  We're just along for the ride.”

“Are we really doing this?”

Noah sighed.  “Besides not really having a choice, I guess we are.  I mean, nothing says a candidate has to come from politics.”

“Can he play the game, though?” Kurt asked.  “Because if he can't, we need to tell him no.”

“That ship sailed hours ago, K.  And wouldn't it be interesting to see a race where one candidate _didn't_ play the game?  Can you imagine it?”

Kurt snorted in laughter.  “I can.  It'll be like anarchy.”

**

**Untested Candidate, Dissention, Plague Democratic Ranks**

_Bill Brennan, son of five-time senator Arnold Brennan, is running for president._

_More surprising than Brennan being there first openly gay man to run for this nation_ _’s highest office is the shock that he_ _’s running as an Independent._ _“I don't fit the mold the Democratic leadership wanted to stuff me into, so I'm taking the risk and going rogue, as my campaign advisors like to say._ _”_

_Those advisors? None other than Kurt Hummel and Noah Puckerman, the wunderkids from Ohio who ran two successful campaigns for President Jensen and have served as trusted members of her senior staff for the last seven years.  Their split with the Democratic leadership came as a shock to the political world, though close friends and coworkers seem unfazed._

_"Kurt and Noah have always had an uncanny ability to read the needs of the people before the rest of the institutions catch up,_ _” former chief of staff Andrea Watters said._

_Press Secretary AJ Hammonds took a slightly different tone when asked about the move in a press conference last week._ _“All of them, Kurt, Noah, and Bill Brennan, they_ _’re all going after what they want: a government that stands a chance at doing its job instead of posturing for the donors and the special interests._ _”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight change to the update schedule. This will update once a week on Saturdays. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include discussions of religion, minor original character death, and discussions of terrorism. Please note that this story was conceived and mostly written well before the events in Paris, San Bernadino, and Colorado Springs, and well before the death of Justice Scalia.

**PART II: The road to Hell is long, and only occasionally paved with good intentions (or, three months on the road)**

**Des Moines Register, August 29 th, 2015 **

_For the first time since announcing his candidacy, Independent Bill Brennan was joined on the campaign trail by his husband, Jamie Matthews.  The two men took in the sights and the food at the Iowa State Fair on Saturday, and Mr. Brennan was the guest of honor at Sunday_ _’s VFW pancake breakfast in Iowa City.  He gave an impassioned speech about the need for more support for aging veterans, and spent nearly an hour talking with a group of fellow Iraq war vets.  Mr. Matthews hosted a small private gathering of current military spouses before flying back to Washington, D.C._ _“We have two young children who are staying with friends this weekend, but I really need to get back.  I have relatives in Iowa, it's always been like a second home to me.  I can't wait to come back._ _”_

_Mr. Brennan was slightly less effusive, most likely due to overindulgence at the fair._ _“Those corn dogs are addictive,_ _” he said, holding a hand over his stomach._ _“And don_ _’t get me started on the fried Snickers.  I ate way too much._ _”_

_The Brennan campaign heads next to Colorado, hoping to capitalize on the state_ _’s murky purple state status._ _“We're a pretty purple campaign, if you think about it,_ _” campaign manager Noah Puckerman told gathered press._ _“We are very progressive on social issues, but Mr. Brennan's years in the military have given him a more conservative eye regarding national security._ _”_

_Brennan will attend a rally in Boulder on Tuesday evening, and then plans to spend Wednesday visiting his alma mater, the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.  A fundraising lunch in Denver will follow on Thursday before Mr. Brennan heads home for the Labor Day holiday._

**Friday, September 11, 2015- Washington Post Op-Ed, William J. Brennan, USAF-Ret.**

_Much like Pearl Harbor, September 11 th, 2001 is a day that will forever be etched into our consciousness._

_It is sometimes difficult for me to fathom that this day, which changed the trajectory of my and too many other_ _’s lives, will be just another day to my children, just another day to remember dead they never knew, just like all the other memorial days that dot our calendars._

_My heartbeat echoes with the ringing of the bell in New York, but my soul is here, at the Pentagon with my brothers and sisters in arms.  Somewhere along the way, sometime in those awful first months after the attacks, patriotism shifted from something good into something bastardized, co-opted by people who use it to mask their hatred._

_God Bless America is not our national anthem.  If you really support our troops, then ask your government to bring them home, to pay them more, to do better by our veterans than letting them die while they wait for the VA benefits they risked their lives to earn.  If you think the United States is truly the finest nation in the land, then you're going to end up disappointed.  We lag far behind our peers when it comes to maternal and fetal health and family leave, in maternal and fetal health, our educational system is broken, our government is ineffectual.  We've spent too many years trying to save the rest of the world and too little time trying to save ourselves._

_We rest a lot of our deeds on the shoulders of those who died fourteen years ago; it_ _’s high time we honored them by fixing our problems instead of cloaking our failures underneath a tattered blanket of false patriotism._

**October 26th, 2015, New York, NY**

Kurt heeled his shoes off as soon as he cleared the entry into their hotel room; he'd already removed his tie in the elevator.  He tossed his suit jacket onto the bed and had his dress shirt halfway unbuttoned before Noah managed to get inside.

“In a hurry?”

“I know I wear the same styles all the time, but god, I swear my clothes have been strangling me all day.”

“Too many hands to shake, to many donors to thank,” Noah said, sitting next to him on the bed and leaning into him.  “The show was amazing, though.”

“Mind blowing.”  Kurt had listened to the soundtrack when the event was announced, but it hadn’t prepared him for seeing it onstage.  His mind was still reeling, his body still loaded with adrenaline from the power of it.  He tapped a finger on the slightly crumpled Playbill that had been in his pocket.  “I don’t think I ever told you.  If I hadn’t gotten into politics, I always thought I’d major in theater.”

“Oh.”  Noah’s voice was soft, and he didn’t sound surprised.  “Do you regret it?”

Kurt squeezed his hand.  “No.  I think some of what we do _is_ theater, you know?  Showing the word what we want them to see.”

“But the show got you thinking.”

Noah knew him too well, after all their years as friends and coworkers; he’d known Kurt too well even before they’d crossed the line to lovers. 

“I just wonder where that passion went?  Where are the rebels who want to create something bigger than they are?  Hamilton and all of them, I think they’d hate where our government has ended up.  The system’s so broken, Noah.  I don’t know if anyone can fix it.”

Noah sighed, and Kurt was waiting for his response when first Noah’s and then his cell phone began vibrating.  A hard knock on the door made Kurt jump, and he rose to answer the door while Noah dealt with their phones. 

“Mr. Hummel?  Mr. Puckerman?  We have a situation.  We need to move now.”  The voice was urgent, the knocking insistent.

Kurt opened the door to two Secret Service agents and two uniformed NYPD officers.  “We need a minute,” he said, turning his back to them and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

One of the agents stepped inside and shut the door.  “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have a minute.  We need to move you to a safe house.  Mr. Brennan is already en route.”

Kurt motioned to Noah, who pocketed his phone before grabbing both of their jackets and their room keys.  Kurt grabbed the briefcase that Noah had left just inside the door.  He knew better than to ask the agents what the emergency was, but if they were being moved and the phone calls had been about something serious, they would want to at least be able to _look_ at the news, even if they were under a blackout.

He didn’t say a word as they made their way down the hall, into a small service elevator, and out the back of the hotel into a waiting SUV.  Once they were ensconced in the backseat, far enough away from the agents, he leaned over and whispered into Kurt’s ear.  “Lots of chatter, lots of threats.  And we lost a Supreme.”

“Dailey?”  Kurt automatically thought of the oldest justice, one of the more conservative on the court.

“No.”  Noah’s voice was choked.  Kurt looked at him and saw tears on his cheeks.  “Hunter.”

Kurt’s heart stutter-stopped before picking its rhythm back up.  “Oh.  Oh, god.  How?”

They had worked together on Hunter’s confirmation only eighteen months before.  He was young, passionate, beyond gifted, with an equally young, passionate, and gifted wife and children.

“Car accident.”

“Laurie?  The kids?  Are they—”

Noah shook his head.  “AJ said they were driving home from Henry’s soccer game.  The car rolled. Right now it’s being treated as an accident, but apparently he’d gotten some threats; the term was supposed to start next week, and there’s been talk that they might take the abortion cases from Texas and Mississippi.”

“They’d be stupid not to take them.  The lower court rulings were bullshit and everyone knows it.  At some point they have to take one just to stop all the goddamn challenges to _Roe_.”  The words came automatically, a familiar rant to them both.  “Oh god.”  Kurt stared at the city passing by his window.  “They’re really gone?”

“Yeah.”  Noah grabbed his hand and held on, and didn’t let go until they were behind closed doors in the safe house.

**

**Brennan campaign on hiatus, candidate urges his opponents to do the same**

_Bill Brennan has suspended his presidential campaign indefinitely following the tragic deaths of Supreme Court Justice Scott Hunter and his family in Monday night_ _’s car crash._ _“It's a matter of simple decency,_ _” Brennan said at a small press conference._ _“Justice Hunter, his wife Laurie, and their children Henry and Ada, were loved and will be missed.  This country has lost a brilliant mind, a champion of free speech and the rights of the  people.  This country has lost an educator and passionate advocate for children, and has lost two children who were part of its future.  When my husband Jamie and I were ready to adopt, Laurie Hunter helped us navigate the system.  Henry played soccer and loved science.  Ada was a gifted musician and dancer, and was excited to be performing in The Nutcracker with the Washington Ballet this winter._ _”_

_"I mourn my friends,_ _” Brennan said through tears._ _“I_ _’ll be taking a break from the campaign until after Thanksgiving.  This is a time to remember and to share those memories, and to hold your family a little closer._ _”_

**

“The Hunters were the first, but this is a lot bigger than a Supreme Court justice and his family.”  FBI counter-terrorism chief Andrew Yates dropped a thick file onto the table.  The assembled agents, both FBI and Secret Service, waited.  “We have credible threats against a number of high-ranking government officials, and threats against government buildings as well.  We’ve traced them back to a militarized religious sect in Montana called Light and Life; from what we’ve been able to intercept, their leader is preaching the complete overthrow of the federal government and the removal of anyone who, and I quote, _refuses to follow the true path of the Savior_.  Apparently abortion and gay marriage and our continued presence in the Middle East is too much.  And forget about women in government.  I presented this information to the President this morning, and we have all the directive we need.  She wants us to shut them down.”

“Do they have a target?”  Kate Milligan was the junior-most agent in the room.

“The Hunter funeral.”

“Shit.”  Kate leaned back in her chair and stared at the list of potential victims in front of her.  “Take out most of the sitting government _and_ a handful of presumptive Presidential candidates in one move?  Overthrow is right.”

**

**MSNBC Breaking News, Chris Hayes reporting**

_In a series of coordinated raids this morning, teams of FBI, ATF, and Secret Service agents, assisted by DC police, Montana Bureau of Investigation, and the Montana and Maryland State Police, interrupted a large-scale plan to attack the funerals of Justice Hunter and his family, in addition to acting on threats to both President Jensen and Presidential candidates Bill Brennan, George Stein, and Alberto Reyes, as well as a number of other high-ranking government officials.  Love and Light is a religious community that has also been under surveillance for years as a possible breeding ground for domestic terrorists, and recent changes in many social policies appear to be the impetus behind the planned attacks._

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The (Institutional) Memory of Elephants [Fanmix]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6081987) by [raving_liberal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal)




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